


if you're feeling small

by sapphea



Category: Love Simon (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-06-08 13:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15244653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphea/pseuds/sapphea
Summary: Simon wonders what time it is, but can’t know without checking his phone. He really doesn’t want to check his phone. If he ignores the messages he can pretend that his emails were never posted in the first place and that his life is just going on as usual.Alternatively titled "Love, Simon But If His Friends Weren't Awful"





	1. Abby

**Author's Note:**

> i watched love, simon yesterday and it made me so mad to watch all of simon's friends turn their backs on him when he needed them most (which imo was out of character, especially for abby) so this is how it would have gone if i'd written it. i've never read simon vs so i've taken a few liberties wrt characterization  
> thanks to em for being my #1 fan love u bitch  
> title is from shadow by bleachers

_Call me back. Please._

_Hey dude. Wanna go for a walk?_

_Simon, please call me. I love you._

Life sucks.

Martin sucks and Creek Secrets sucks and the internet sucks and Martin _fucking_ sucks and high school sucks and Simon’s whole entire existence just. Fucking. Sucks.

God, and he made his sister cry. So now _he_ sucks, too, just as a person.

Simon’s not proud to admit it, but he nearly tantrums himself to sleep. He just feels so hopeless, so trapped in his own decisions. He wants to claw himself out of his own skin. He wants to tear away anything that makes him Gay Simon, or maybe just Simon in general. He wants to disappear.

But after about an hour of silent screaming and thrashing he’s tired himself out of crisis mode and nestled himself firmly into existential loathing. He stares at his ceiling and notices that the sun had set, and his room is now bathed in the soft orange-blue light of suburban nighttime.

Huh. The world is still spinning, then.

He wonders what time it is, but can’t know without checking his phone. He really doesn’t want to check his phone. If he ignores the messages he can pretend that his emails were never posted in the first place and that his life is just going on as usual.

But the world is still spinning, and Simon can’t do anything but spin right along with it.

He gives himself a countdown: _five, four, three, two_ , and on _one_ he snatches his phone from where he’d thrown it earlier. It’s silent now, but turning it on reveals upwards of 90 notifications and the answer to his question, _10:32_. Simon didn’t think that 90 people at Creekwood even knew his name.

Simon unlocks his phone without looking at the notifications and simply stares at his home screen, trying to decide what to do. Leah’s his best friend. Simon doesn’t know if it’s in spite of or because of that fact that he can’t bring himself to call her. Nick’s not much better in that department, plus Simon _really_ can’t handle even the most joking of _so have you had the hots for me all these years_ type of remarks that Nick falls back on when he’s under pressure. Abby already knew, but Abby has such an awkward place in this situation, how can he talk to her about this? But then, how can he _not_ tell her?

He’s calling Abby before he realizes he’s made the decision to.

His phone barely rings twice before “Oh my God, Simon, are you okay?” rushes at him through the tiny speakers. It takes Simon two tries before his voice actually works.

“I don’t know,” he says, and it sounds pathetic but Simon feels too awful to care. “Can-- Can I pick you up? I think I need to get out of my house--”

“Of course,” Abby responds immediately. “I’ll meet you out front in five.”

Simon moves to hang up, suddenly itching to move, but Abby says, “Si? I love you,” and Simon can’t breathe.

“Yeah,” he says after a beat. “Thanks. Love you, too.”

“See you in a bit.”

 

Simon doesn’t remember how exactly he got to be standing next to his parked car in front of Abby’s apartment building, but it’s not like this is the first time he’s ever snuck out of the house for a late night drive before. And technically, it’s not even past his curfew yet. He’s sure he got out fine. If only his shaky hands and trembly knees could get the memo. He’s fine, really.

Abby emerges from the front door and Simon takes a few steps towards her, but before he knows it she’s sprinted at him and wrapped herself around him in the tightest hug Simon’s ever been a part of in his life. He returns it as much as he can and tries to pretend that he’s not embarrassed that he’s crying.

“I’m so sorry, Simon,” Abby says into his chest. “This is so unfair and wrong and horrible.” She looks up at him, and she’s crying, too. “Is there anything I can do?”

And Simon’s barely known her for six months but she’s already so important to him, so ready to get involved in the worst day of Simon’s life, and he’s been hiding behind her for so long. Guilt seizes him and makes him cry even harder.

“I-- I’m sorry, Abby,” he splutters. “I’m so sorry, I was just so scared-- and Martin--”

“Martin?” Abby’s eyes go from wide and confused to bright and angry in milliseconds. “Holy shit, is Martin the one who leaked your emails?”

Simon nods. “Yeah, he-- he’s had them since October.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” she hisses. “I’m gonna _kill_ him!” Her eyebrows furrow. “But wait, if you knew then why were you--?”

“He blackmailed me, Abby,” Simon says, and his breath hitches. “Fuck, I’m so sorry but he-- Martin wanted me to help him get together with you, and he said he’d leak the emails if I didn’t, and since I’m a _fucking coward_ I did it but that meant I had to stop Nick from asking you out and I think you like him too and I hated doing it but I was _so scared_ \--”

“Simon, Simon, breathe,” Abby commands, and Simon sucks in a deep breath, and then another. He wipes his face.

“And it doesn’t even matter, because he leaked them anyway,” Simon finishes, and his breath rattles in his chest. “I fucked up the lives of my best friends and it doesn’t even fucking _matter_.”

“Oh, Si,” Abby says softly. “Of course it matters. You weren’t ready, and you were in a shitty situation, and Martin took advantage of that.”

Simon stares. “You’re not mad?”

Abby smiles. “Not at you, Simon.”

Fuck, Simon needs to stop crying. He hugs Abby again, because he can’t do anything else.

“I think this is the most physical contact we’ve ever had,” Abby remarks. “And not that I’m not enjoying it, but stressing over you for three hours and then this has left me _starving_.” She holds out her hand. Simon looks at it, confused.

“You’re in no shape to drive, Si, and I want McDonald’s. I promise I won’t total it.”

Simon laughs and hands over the keys. “If I see a single scratch on it tomorrow, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”

Abby just kisses his cheek and gets into the driver’s seat.

 

“So,” Abby says around a mouthful of fries. “Do you want to talk about Blue?”

God, it’s weird hearing other people talk about Blue. For so long, he was Simon’s and Simon’s alone. A beautiful, perfect secret. Knowing that other people know that Blue exists makes him seem both more real and unreal.

“I never have, before,” Simon says. “He likes Oreos.”

Abby laughs. “Descriptive.”

“He came out to his Dad, apparently that went okay. They’re out camping now. No service.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s Jewish, too.”

“Cool.”

“He’s so well-spoken,” he continues. “Like, he can get poetic, and he chooses his words so carefully but there’s also a sort of, I guess careless artistry about it? Like he’s just casually throwing me these bits of philosophy or poetry and they’re so beautiful. But also so real.” Simon realizes he’s smiling. “I feel like I know him better than any other person alive. And that he knows me.”

Simon meets Abby’s eyes again. “I’ve never seen you look so happy,” she says. “He sounds amazing.”

Simon bites his lip. “I-- I love him,” he admits quietly. “I love him _so much_ , Abby.”

Abby squeezes his hand across the table. “Oh, Simon.”

“What if he never talks to me again?” Simon asks, dread setting in again. “What if he freaks when he comes back and I never get to talk to him or find out who he is? I can’t lose him, Abby, I don’t want--”

“Shh, Si, there’s no point in freaking out about that now.” She looks at him like she can force calm through her eyes into Simon’s. It kind of works. “You told him about the post?”

“Of course.”

She nods. “Then there’s nothing to do but wait until a response.”

“Easier said than done,” he mutters.

“I know,” she says kindly.

They finish the last of their late-night meal in silence. As they’re throwing their trash away, Abby asks, “Do you want to sleep over at mine?”

“Would your mom be cool with it?” he asks.

She shrugs. “Sure. She loves you.”

Simon nods. “Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course. Wait, if you’re gonna throw that away, can I eat it?”

Simon laughs, handing her the rest of his burger. “I love you,” he says, and he means _thank you for this_ and _you’re amazing_ and also just _I love you_.

Abby smiles. “I love you, too.”


	2. Nick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon’s gut is churning too much to even think about eating. “Nick, I-- did Abby tell you?”  
> Nick swallows his pancake, nodding. Simon can’t read his expression. “Yeah, she did. And what the fuck, man?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i said i'd update in like a week but!! i have poor impulse control

The next morning comes a lot slower than Simon expected it to, but it comes bright and loud. Apparently Abby sleeps with her blinds open, and there’s a commotion in the kitchen that seems to consist of things clattering against each other and a good bit of swearing. Simon hopes Abby’s mom isn’t home.

But there’s more than one voice coming from the kitchen, so if Abby’s mom _isn’t_ home, who is?

Simon shuffles into the kitchen just as Nick shouts victoriously-- and loudly-- as he catches a flipped pancake in the pan. Oh, fuck. Of course it’s Nick.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” Abby says from the dinner table where she’s eating a bowl of cereal, still in pajamas. Apparently she doesn’t trust Nick’s cooking skills much.

“Hey,” he croaks, approaching the table like it’s a nuclear reactor.

Nick waves at him distractedly. “These are almost done, give me like, two more minutes.”

“He’s been saying that for the past _twenty_ minutes,” Abby stage-whispers.

“Hey, you can’t rush perfection!” Nick protests. “Plus, this recipe makes  _way_ more batter than I thought it did.”

“Mom went out for some last-minute Christmas groceries,” Abby explains as she takes another bite of cereal. “She’ll be back before one.”

“What time is it now?” he asks. _And shit, is it really Christmas Eve?_

“Like ten thirty,” Nick says, and suddenly there’s a plate of pancakes in front of Simon. Nick slides into the seat between him and Abby. His hair is tied back with a bandana and his ever-present soccer jersey peeks out from under a _Kiss the Cook_ apron. “Bon appetit, except to those who don’t appreciate culinary talent when it’s sitting two feet away from them.”

The pancakes don’t smell half bad, but Simon’s gut is churning too much to even think about eating. “Nick, I-- did Abby tell you?”

Nick swallows his pancake, nodding. Simon can’t read his expression. “Yeah, she did. And what the fuck, man?”

Simon’s heart rate jackhammers. “I know, it was shitty, I’m so sorry--”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were being blackmailed?”

Simon is confused. “Wait, _that’s_ what you’re mad about?”

Nick throws his hands up. “Yes! Look, I get that you weren’t out to us-- you could have told us at any time, dude, we would have been cool, but whatever, I get it’s hard-- but even if you didn’t tell us what Martin had on you, we would have been able to _help_ if you had just _talked to us!_ ”

“Oh,” says Simon. “I guess... I just didn’t think about it like that?”

“No shit, dude,” Nick snorts.

Simon takes a bite of pancake because he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s good.

“Fuck, man,” Nick says. “Do you really think we care more about our dating life than you being outed against your will?”

Simon’s eyes prickle with tears. He shrugs, and takes another bite to cover up the fact that he might start crying again.

A hand grabs his shoulder. “Simon,” Nick says, and forces him to make eye contact. “I’m sorry that Martin outed you, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you like a best bro should have. And yeah, I am sorry that Abby and I didn’t get together sooner. But I’m _not_ sorry that you decided to protect yourself in the best way you could.”

Simon pulls him into a hug. “I’ve been wanting to tell you,” he says. “I was just--”

“It’s cool, bro,” Nick whispers. “Honest.”

Another pair of arms wrap around him as Abby joins them, and Simon lets himself sit in their love and acceptance.

“Shit,” he mutters eventually. “I still have to talk to Leah.”

“She knows enough that she’s not losing it,” Abby says. “Wait until you’re ready.”

Simon nods. He feels so worn out, even though he just woke up. “Thank you, guys,” he says as sincerely as he can. “Really, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Of course,” says Nick. “We love you, dude.” He claps him on the back one more time before stepping towards Abby and lacing their fingers together.

“So, you two are together now?” he asks, trying to lighten the mood.

Abby and Nick smile at each other, and even though part of him can’t help but be jealous of their open and easy intimacy, he’s so happy for them. “Yeah, well, took us long enough,” says Nick easily.

Simon laughs. “Tell me about it.”

 

“Do you know who Blue is?” Nick asks, and it’s the sheer casualness of it that makes Simon’s heart stop. Who knew that being out to his best friends would be so easy?

“No,” Simon says, scrubbing at the pan Nick used earlier. Abby had gone to take a shower, leaving _those of us who couldn’t be satisfied with an easy breakfast_ to do the dishes. Nick was a messy cook, to the surprise of absolutely no one. “At first I thought it was Bram, but I, uh, kinda... walked in on him with a girl. On Halloween.”

“Oof,” says Nick, laughing. “Nice one.”

“I _know_ , it sucked. Then I thought it was Lyle-- he works at Waffle House-- but turns out he just wanted to ask Abby out. It might be Cal, from drama, but I really don’t know.”

Nick pauses drying the measuring cups. “Who do you hope it is?”

Simon lets out a breath. “Honestly, I just hope it’s someone who actually _exists_ , you know?” He admits.

Nick nods sagely and resumes his drying. “Well, he seems to make you happy, so whoever he is, he must be pretty dope.”

Simon smiles. “He does. Make me happy.”

“Good,” says Nick, and grins at him. “Hey, have you been lusting after my hot soccer bod this entire time?”

Simon laughs in spite of himself. “You got me,” he says. “I can barely restrain myself around your sexy, sexy body.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says, satisfied. “Don’t worry, Simon, if I was gay I’d be after your twinky ass, too.”

“Okay, you can shut up now,” says Simon as he flicks suds at Nick.

“Ooh, you _know_ that means war,” Nick warns, and they’re flinging bubbles at each other and giggling like kids.

“Cool, so y’all know you’re mopping up my kitchen now too, right?” Abby says from the doorway, hair wrapped in a towel, hands on her hips.

“Yes, ma’am,” Nick says with a salute. “But let it be known that he started it.”

Simon steals the towel and flicks it at Nick’s ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i messed w the timeline a little bit (i'm pretty sure simon gets outed christmas eve?) but to be fair this is marked as an au. i figure i have a little leeway w that sort of thing
> 
> thanks sm to everyone for the support!! this is my first multichapter so getting messages from y'all about being excited for an update is really cool
> 
> also i'm on tumblr @sapphea


	3. Leah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two down, one to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imagine "stand by me" is the background music to this chapter. and this entire fic, tbh

Two down, one to go.

 _This’ll be the easiest_ , Simon tells himself. _Leah’s your best friend. She knows everything about you. It’ll be fine._

It still takes him almost an hour of pacing in his room for him to hit the call button.

Leah picks up immediately, of course, and suddenly he’s staring at her face on his screen. She’s sitting up, and she looks serious. It’s so unlike every other Facetime conversation they’ve had, casual and sprawled on beds, that Simon freezes for a moment.

“Hey, Leah,” he says, and ignores the fact that he can hear his voice shaking. “Sorry we couldn’t do this in person.”

“You know how my parents are on break,” she says neutrally.

“Yeah.” He looks away, gathering himself. “Look, Leah, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. That I was gay, about Martin, and Nick, all of it. I guess--”

“Wait, what?” Leah interrupts. “What about Nick?”

Simon sighs. “Shit. I knew he really liked Abby, but I needed Abby to be single for Martin, and then when I figured out _you_ were in love with Nick, I guess I kind of tried to use you as a distraction? But I honestly really did want you and Nick to work out because I want you to be happy--”

“Si, I’m not in love with Nick.”

Simon blinks. “What?”

Leah sighs. “Oh my God, you really-- that talk we had on Halloween?” Leah looks away and says quietly, “I was talking about you, Simon.”

Simon blinks again. “ _What?_ ”

“ _God_ I hate boys,” Leah says emphatically. “Look, you’re oblivious. We knew that. I've actually been into you for years, but obviously that never-- I thought you setting me up with Nick was like, a sign or whatever, the universe telling me that it was time for me to move on. So I am.”

“So... You’re not in love with me?”

“I love you, Si, with a very large portion of my heart. But no, I’m not in love with you anymore. In fact, I’m hacking up the straight version of Simon in my head with a machete as we speak.”

Simon laughs. “Ouch, that’s a little violent.” He thinks for a moment. “So you were never into Nick and I just completely don’t understand heterosexual relationships?”

“Well...” Leah says. “Nick is kind of hot.”

“Yes! I love being right!" Simon fist-pumps. "But, wait shit, sorry about the whole Nick and Abby thing.”

Leah waves a hand dismissively. “Whatever, that’s like, the least important thing in this situation right now. Simon, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I guess I just didn’t want anything to change between us. We’ve been _us_ for so long that I was worried any change might mean we weren’t-- we wouldn’t be _us_ anymore.”

“Si, I love you, but you’re so fucking stupid.”

“Yikes,” Simon chokes out around a nervous laugh.

Leah sighs. “Look, _of course_ things are gonna change between us, because _we as people_ change. Especially next year, with college and everything. What I thought made us _us_ was the fact that we would still have each others’ backs no matter what.”

“I know, Leah, I’m sorry. I want-- it just felt too big, you know?”

“Not to sound like a cheesy porno, but when it comes to you, Si, nothing’s too big for me,” Leah says around a smirk.

Simon snorts. “I hate that you managed to make that sound sincere.” They smile at each other a moment, and it feels-- not exactly like it did before, but almost. Maybe even a little better. “Hey, Leah?” he says.

“Yes, Simon?”

“I’m gay.”

Leah nods like she’s mulling that over. “I guess I love and accept you for who you are. Hey, Simon?”

“Yes, Leah?”

“I think I might be a little bit bi.”

Simon grins. “Really?”

Leah nods, a little nervous but very determined. “Because like, I’ve been thinking, and Nick is hot, but Abby is, too.”

“That sounds pretty bi to me,” he says. “I suppose I love and accept you for who you are, as well.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Love you.”

“Gross.”

“Say it back, asshole.”

“Dick. I love you, too.”

The more his friends say it, the more Simon starts to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this ended up very short, sorry!! the natural break in the story just happened here. i'll have the next chapter up very soon to make up for it.
> 
> i wanna thank y'all again for the kind comments and support!! it really does mean a lot to me, beyond what words can say


	4. The Spiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon knows that coming out will change things, but this-- the teasing, the antics, the love-- he doesn’t think the apocalypse could shake that. It’s the foundation of the Spier household.
> 
> Well, he hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i promised a quick update but i completely forgot and then i was super busy but we're back, boys!! sorry for the delay

“The hermit emerges,” Simon’s dad announces, eyes glued to the latest Bachelor episode, as Simon makes his way into the living room.

“Does it count as being a hermit if he’s barely been at the house for the past day?” His mom asks from the armchair, tilting her head and fixing him with her X-Ray Therapist Look over her laptop screen. "Seems to me he's just an avoidant."

“Yeah yeah, sorry,” says Simon as he throws himself onto the couch. “You know how we hormone-filled teenagers are, especially during the holidays. Tension and drama and all that.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Simon thinks. He knows that his clock is ticking and he’d really rather his parents hear the good gay news from him than anyone else. But he’s just come out to his three closest friends, and he’s tired.

“Not right now,” he tells his mom. “Maybe later?”

She nods and goes back to her laptop. “Any time you’re ready, sweetie.”

Nora emerges from the kitchen brandishing a plate of cookies like a weapon. “Merry Christmas Eve!” She says. “I have gingersnap, gingerbread, peanut butter, sugar cookies, pinwheels, and molasses drops.” When the family doesn’t immediately swarm her and the fruits of her labor, she sighs hotly. “What kind of family holiday event is this? No one talking to each other, no sense of community or family connection. I swear, the spirit of Christmas gets lost more and more every year thanks to consumerism.”

Simon snorts a laugh. “Who died and made you an anchor at Fox News?” He pokes her side to make her squeal and grabs a gingersnap. “They smell fantastic, to no one’s surprise.”

“Thank you, Simon,” she says. “At least _someone_ in this household appreciates my hard work.”

“Hey, who do you think works 40-hour weeks so that we can afford to buy all of your baking materials?” Simon’s dad lays a hand on his heart, faux-offended. “And _this_ is the thanks we get?”

“You know children are ungrateful,” Simon says, voice muffled by a bite of cookie. “You guys signed up for this.”

Simon’s dad heaves himself off the couch with a sigh. “Well, you got me there. Point to Simon.” He drops a kiss onto Nora’s head and grabs a cookie for himself. In a predictable yet still exasperating display of immaturity, he shoves it all into his mouth at once.

“Dad, gross,” Nora protests at the same time Simon’s mom says, “Jack, can we at least _pretend_ we’re trying to teach the kids good manners?”

Simon smiles to himself and lets himself soak this up. God, he really, truly, wholeheartedly loves his family. And he knows that coming out will change things, but this-- the teasing, the antics, the love-- he doesn’t think anything short of the apocalypse could shake that. It’s the foundation of the Spier household.

Well, he hopes. If not, he’d better enjoy the fuck out of this last night.

 

Christmas morning gets weirder and weirder every year. When he was a kid, Simon was the type to jump on his parents’ bed at 6:30 until they got up and went downstairs so that he and Nora could start opening presents. Even when the Santa-shaped cat was let out of the bag for Simon, he loved watching Nora’s face light up more and more with every gift she unwrapped. But these past few years, with the magic of Christmas gone for the both of them, Simon finds himself waking later and later, not really sure if he’s in the right headspace to face the day.

It’s stupid to feel guilty for not knowing how to feel about Christmas, right?

Ugh, getting old kind of sucks sometimes.

Honestly, the big rainbow shoe hanging in the air above Simon’s head, just waiting to be dropped, isn’t doing him any favors this particular Christmas morning. Should he wait until after breakfast? Presents? Dinner? Should he just put it off until tomorrow?

He can’t start second-guessing himself now. He’ll just take it one step at a time.

Step one: get out of bed.

Simon crawls off of his bed and stretches until his spine pops. Check.

Step two: go downstairs.

He seems to be the first one up, so he walks quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen to start up the coffee maker. Check.

Step three: face the music.

Simon takes a deep breath. Let the music play, then.

 

 _So,_ he texts Leah. _If you come out to your dad and he gets up and leaves does that mean he’s disowning you or he’s going out and buying pride merch immediately?_

 _Oh Simon, I’m sorry,_ comes the immediate reply. _Maybe he just needs time?_

_Maybe._

_How was your mom?_

_Accepting and therapisty, as always._

_Nora?_

_She saw on creeksecrets and defended my honor so I assume she’s cool._

_Of course she is. She’s a good kid._

_That she is._

_Do you want me to call you?_

_No, I’m fine. Thanks. Facetime you later?_

_Of course._

Simon thinks, _and a happy fucking New Year_.

 

It turns out that a lot of the notifications Simon had received That Night (capital letters _absolutely_ deserved, thank you) were follow requests on Instagram or Twitter. Apparently, being publicly humiliated made you a hot commodity in the market of high school society. He ignores all of them, thankful his accounts are private.

Some of them are private messages from people who already followed him, ranging from _omg is it true????????_ to _i’m so sorry are you ok_ to _i knew u were too cute to b straight_ , which, thanks? If that’s even a compliment? These people barely say hi to him in the hallways and now they’re acting like they’re entitled to his personal life. He ignores those, too.

There’s even one or two messages with slurs in them, to round out the bunch. Merry Christmas to him.

He knows that Blue wasn’t a part of this notification storm because he’s still camping with his dad. Simon considers combing through them again to see who _didn’t_ send him anything, but that sounds a little too obsessive, even for him. He’ll just have to wait.

Just like he’s waiting to see if his dad still loves him.

It sounds overdramatic when he thinks about it like that, but it’s not exactly incorrect.

Well, okay. He knows theoretically that his dad loves him, and will always love him. It’s not like he’s _actually_ going to disown Simon. And he’s probably not the _hate the sin, love the sinner_ type. They’re not even that religious.

But what if?

Simon can’t be the perfect, typical son that his dad always thought he was. What if that’s enough to lose his dad’s love?

There’s a light knock on his door, and Simon opens it to see his dad standing in the doorway. “Hey, Simon,” he says quietly. “Can we talk? I think I owe you an apology.”

Simon steps aside and lets his dad in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi i still imagine simon and his parents having the Talks they had in the movie, just moved up time-wise bc this story is abt simon having a loving support network and doesn't need heterosexual drama


	5. Atlanta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, we’re going out!” Nick announces.  
> “We are?” Simon asks, dubious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a quick little interlude from all of the angst and the drama
> 
> ngl this was very self-indulgent and i had SO much fun writing it, i hope y'all enjoy

Blue writes back two days after Christmas. It’s not a happy note.

Simon freaks out, just a little, and sends a frantic reply, _No, please Blue, I need you right now_ but his fucking message bounces back because Blue fucking _blocked him_ and he freaks out a little bit more.

He’s not even sure which of his friends he calls, but when they pick up he says, “Blue’s blocking my emails” and within ten minutes his friends are surrounding him on his bed. Simon stutters out the general gist of Blue’s rejection and after a solid fifteen minutes of outrage on his behalf Leah’s head is on his shoulder and Abby’s holding one of his hands. Nick keeps jumping up to pace angrily, but that’s kind of calming, too.

Simon suddenly feels so embarrassed about all of this. His friends have lives, too, and families they should be visiting during break. He’s probably dripped enough snot on them the past week for their skin to turn green.

“Fuck, is everything gonna be a goddamn ordeal now that I’m gay?” Simon asks, wiping at his eyes.

“Honey, everything’s a goddamn ordeal right now because you’re going through something shitty,” Leah says and rubs his back.

“Not very many teenagers can justifiably be as moody and angsty as you are,” Abby points out. “You’re every emo kid’s wet dream.”

“It’s okay to freak out a little, Si,” says Nick as he drops back down to sit on the bed. He claps Simon’s knee. “I would be if I was in your place. It’s okay.”

So Simon lets himself have a breakdown, and he lets his friends catch him.

 

Simon’s not too proud to admit that the next few days pass by in a haze of depression. His mom notices, of course, but she gets that he just needs a few days to get over himself so she mostly kisses the top of his head and smiles at him sadly. It kind of helps.

His dad gets him out of the house to do yard work after the first two days, and Nora keeps up a steady stream of baked goods coming fresh out of the oven. Those kind of help, too.

But nothing _really_ helps the fact that the boy he loves doesn’t want anything to do with him. It’s melodramatic, he knows, but he also knows he’s eighteen and in love and allowed to be a little melodramatic sometimes. He’s cashing in on his emo teen credit.

His parents and sister must be out, because when his doorbell rings, no one moves to answer. It rings again, then starts up a rhythm that sounds like it’s trying to be _Jingle Bells_ , and that’s how Simon knows it’s Nick.

Simon’s barefoot and wearing a short-sleeved shirt, so he shivers a little when he opens the door. Sure enough, there stands Nick, for once not in his soccer jersey. In fact, he’s got on light-wash jeans, a tee, and a bomber jacket. He looks like a real teen instead of a Ronaldo fanboy.

“Hey, we’re going out!” Nick greets, the immediately moves to leave.

“We are?” Simon asks, dubious. “Where?”

“Well, first we’re going out the door, then we’re going into my car, then out into the street--”

“Ha ha, okay, fine,” says Simon. “Just let me get my shoes on and text my parents.”

Nick bounces on the soles of his feet. “Yeah, okay, hurry up, dude! And you might wanna grab a jacket,” he adds just as Simon is about to close the door behind him.

“Why, are we staying out late?”

Nick smiles what he probably thinks is a very sly and enigmatic smile. It kind of makes him look like a supervillain. “You’ll see.”

 

After the first twenty minutes on the road Simon can figure out that they’re heading to Atlanta, but no amount of pestering can make Nick reveal their exact destination. Simon hijacks the aux cord in revenge.

As he’s queuing up his playlist, Nick says, “Abby and Leah wanted to come, of course, but we haven’t really had one-on-one bro time since, you know--”

“That Night,” Simon supplies.

“Yeah, capital letters and all. So like, just want you to know that they’re thinking of you, but I wanted this to be just us.”

Simon loves his friends.

“Thanks, Nick,” he says. “That means a lot.”

“Sure thing, man,” Nick says easily. “It’ll probably be another twenty-ish minutes, by the way.”

So they settle in, Simon’s music carrying them to whatever destination Nick has in mind.

 

“Nope! Nope, that’s-- nope--”

“C’mon, man, it’s--”

“I’ll see you at home, man--”

“Dude, it’s a _great_ place--”

It’s a gay bar. Nick’s taken him to a gay bar. A real-life gay bar. It would be hilarious if it weren’t the worst thing that Nick has ever done to him.

“No, I’m not going in, you’re _crazy_ \--”

“They’ve got like, cucumbers I think--”

“No, no, no--”

But then Nick’s _picking him up_ and carrying him bridal style towards the bar, which is infinitely worse than him walking towards the bar, holy shit, so Simon yells “Okay okay okay just put me down, put me _down_ dude, shit...”

“Come _on_ , I heard this place had some great reviews on Yelp!” Nick says excitedly, dragging Simon towards the entrance. “And supposedly they got some kick-ass ribs...”

Nick trails off as he and Simon watch the bouncer slap the ass of possibly the biggest man Simon’s ever seen in his life. Simon wants to die.

“Well, I’m sure that’s just what that _one_ guy is into--” Nick starts, but then two other very large men walk in wearing bondage gear and Simon really, really wants to die.

“I think you twinks want next door,” the bouncer says, and Simon wishes he was already dead.

“Thank you,” he says quickly and turns on his heel.

Of course, Nick doesn’t give up that easily, and they actually go into the bar next door. Nick bluffs their way past the bouncer but he’s barely talked to a guy-- a junior in college, who approached Simon first, and was _flirting with him_ , how is this his life-- for more than ten minutes before another bouncer asks Simon to show his ID.

“How old are you, anyway?” College Junior asks.

Simon, predictably, panics. “Uh, old enough. I’m like twenty-- uh, six-- seven?” The bouncer raises his eyebrows. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Simon and Nick are escorted out of the gay bar.

Nick must have gotten a drink or two in before that, however, because as soon as they hit pavement he starts rambling. “Shit, dude, I’m so sorry I dragged you all the way out here just to be totally embarrassed in front of the first gay guy to show interest in you-- and now you’re probably gonna be _traumatized_ and I’m so--”

“Nick, Nick! Listen,” Simon says, laughing. “Thank you.”

“But--”

“I had fun. Like, sure I wanted to die most of the night but it was... actually pretty cool to be in a place that’s kinda just for me, you know? So thank you. I love you, man.”

Nick grins and ducks his head like he’s embarrassed. “I love you, too.”

“No homo, though.”

Nick looks at him questioningly, and holds his thumb and finger a millimeter apart.

“Alright, a little homo.”

“A little homo, yeah.”

With friend like this, he thinks as he takes Nick’s keys, going back to school won’t be so bad. Simon can do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know how to explain the reaction i had when i watched the deleted scene for the first time and the bouncer said "i think u twinks want next door" except that i snorted so hard my throat hurt for the rest of the day and i felt like my soul exploded
> 
> also we've passed the halfway point!! how crazy is that!!!! thank u to everyone who's still reading!!!!!!
> 
> also also i love nick eisner


	6. Creekwood High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aside from the stares and whispers, the morning progresses pretty much as usual. Simon goes to class, doesn’t raise his hand, tries not to wallow in his blue-- ha, get it?-- mood, walks from one class to the next as quickly as he can.
> 
> Lunch is where it all goes to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't said this in a note for a while but from the bottom of my heart, thank u to everyone who's reading/subscribing/leaving kudos/commenting!! it means the world to me to receive such positive feedback on this work
> 
> special shoutout to steph and em... i'm love y'all

Fuck, Simon doesn’t know if he can do this.

He doesn’t normally eat much of a breakfast, but thinking about even sampling the tiniest taste of whatever Nora’s cooked up sends his stomach roiling. He can barely handle the _smell_ of eggs wafting towards him as he walks into the kitchen.

“Breakfast burrito?” Nora offers, and Simon takes it with a strained smile, wrapping it in a napkin. She smiles like she gets it.

“You okay, honey?” His mom asks. “You don’t look so hot.”

“M’fine, Mom, and I’m gonna be late.”

His dad stands from the table and claps his shoulder. “You know we’re here for you, and we love you, right, Si?”

Simon nods. “Yeah, Dad. Thanks.”

His mom kisses his cheek and Nora wraps him in a hug from behind. Simon already decided he wasn’t going to cry today, but his family is making that very hard right now. 

“Love you guys,” he says quietly as he untangles himself from them. The longer he waits to get started, the longer today is going to be. He needs to jump right in.

 

Abby, Leah, and Nick are all waiting for him at Nick’s house, which is unusual but not all that surprising. They look kind of like the Three Fates, standing there solemnly against the depressing gray sky, even though Simon knows they’re not there to pass judgement.

He kind of sounds like Blue.

“Hey, guys,” he greets as they climb into his car, as if it’s any other morning. And like every other morning, he heads to the coffee shop and gives the barista his friends’ usual orders.

“You’re not getting anything?” Leah asks.

“Nah,” says Simon, going for nonchalant. “I feel super jittery as is, I don’t think introducing caffeine to my system would do me any favors.”

Abby rests a hand on his arm. “We’ll be here for you, Simon,” she reassures him. Leah nods a solemn agreement.

“Can’t say it’s not gonna suck today,” Nick chimes in, “but we’ll try our best to make it suck less.”

Simon just nods and pulls up to the next window. What would he do without his friends?

Sure enough, pretty much everyone stares at Simon as he walks into school, but Abby takes one of his hands and Leah takes the other, Nick covering his back, and Simon doesn’t feel quite so alien.

“How do you wanna do this, Simon?” asks Leah.

“Just get through, I guess. Keep my head down, do my normal thing.”

And aside from the stares and whispers, the morning does progress pretty much as usual. Simon goes to class, doesn’t raise his hand, tries not to wallow in his blue-- ha, get it?-- mood, walks from one class to the next as quickly as he can.

Lunch is where it all goes to shit.

Martin’s buttsex remark was horrible enough to read on Creek Secrets, but seeing Spencer and Aaron dressed up as him and Ethan pretending to fuck? It makes Simon feel sick.

Before he knows it he’s standing in front of them, demanding “Is there something you want to say to me?”

“Get down before I make you get down, assholes!” Nick yells from behind him.

“Go fuck yourselves!” Leah agrees, and Abby looks like she’s about to storm the scene and wreak havoc, but luckily-- unluckily?-- Ms. Albright shuts everything down faster than she can monologue about horrible adolescents and getting her tubes tied.

“Simon, are you okay?” Leah asks, and Simon realizes he’s shaking uncontrollably.

“I don’t--”

“Spier, Moore,” an administrator says, “Mr. Worth will want to see you in his office.”

“We’ll walk with them,” Abby asserts, and the administrator nods.

 

Simon makes his friends go to class when it becomes clear that he and Ethan won’t be taken in until after the bell rings. They protest, but Simon insists that he’ll be fine.

“Text us if you need anything,” Abby makes him promise, and Leah squeezes his hand one more time before they all rush to class.

“Your friends seem nice,” Ethan says a few moments after they leave.

“They’re-- they’ve been great,” says Simon. “Look, I’m sorry about all of this, Ethan. Nothing like that ever happened when it was just you who were out.”

“Well,” Ethan sighs, “you know what they say: one gay’s a bore, two’s a recipe for a hate crime.” He looks at Simon sideways. “You know, you could have told me you were gay.”

“Because all gays are automatically best friends?”

“No, because we could have been there for each other.”

Oh. Simon shrugs. “I guess... I didn’t think we had that much in common.”

“You’re telling me. It’s not like your all-hoodie wardrobe exactly rocks my world,” teases Ethan, and Simon laughs.

“Maybe I was also a little jealous,” Simon admits after a beat. “I mean, you’ve been out since you were sixteen. It just always seemed so easy for you.”

“Easy?” Ethan looks shocked. “Simon, nothing about being _all this_ ,” he gestures to his general existence, “is easy.” He sighs. “My mom still tells my grandparents about all the girls I’m dating when we eat dinner at their house. Every Sunday. I don’t know, she says it’s easier? Because they’re old and religious and wouldn’t understand?” It’s weird to see Ethan, pillar of poise and self-assured charisma, to look so defeated. “But you should _see_ the look on her face when she talks about the girls.”

“Shit, Ethan, I’m sorry,” says Simon.

Ethan just shrugs. “That’s just how it is.”

“Ethan? Simon?” Mr. Worth calls. “Would you come in?”

 

After what had to be the most half-assed apology Simon’s ever received and Mr. Worth’s stupid, typical assumption-- straight people are the _worst_ \-- Simon and Ethan are finally released back to class.

“It’s ten minutes ‘til the end of seventh,” says Simon. “I feel like there’s no point actually going to class.”

“What, and miss the staring and whispering and pointing that we’ll be treated to by our voyeuristic classmates?” Ethan quips drily.

Simon gestures to the auditorium. “Wanna hang out backstage? No one will bother us.”

Ethan shrugs noncommittally, so Simon leads the way through the house and into the costume wing behind the stage.

“The set looks... nice,” offers Ethan.

“It looks like it was made by a bunch of children, which it was,” says Simon with a laugh. “But we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I’m sure it’ll look better when the stage lights are on, anyway.”

Simon tilts his head. “I’ve always wondered, why did you never do drama?”

Ethan puts a hand on his hip and turns, mouth open in outrage. “What, because all gays like wearing tights and makeup and singing songs on stage? Stereotypical much, Simon?”

“Well, no, I just--”

“I jest, I _jest_ , jeez,” Ethan laughs at him. “Truth be told, I actually have _the_ worst stage fright imaginable.”

“Really? You?”

“I know, right?” Ethan sighs. “I suppose it’s God protecting the world. If I was good at acting on top of everything else, there wouldn’t be much left for the rest of you.”

Simon snorts. “Well, we appreciate your sacrifice.”

Ethan nods beneficially. “I serve the people.”

The bell rings.

Simon sighs, feeling like the bell shattered the moment between them. “Well, see you around, I guess.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Walk me to my car, you philistine,” he says, turns on his heel, and starts walking.

“I really should stay and help set up, opening night--”

“It’s a five minute walk there and back, Simon,” he calls over his shoulder, “and I still need to give you my phone number, and make you promise to _actually_ text me.”

Simon smiles and jogs to catch up.

 

“Am I allowed to ask about your pen pal?” Ethan wonders as they reach the student parking lot.

Simon sighs. “I guess? I mean, the whole school knows.”

Ethan nods. “Are you guys still talking?”

“No.” Simon ducks his head. “He, uh, blocked me pretty much right after the leak.”

“Dick,” Ethan says lightly. “And you don’t like, have each others’ numbers or anything?”

Simon shakes his head. “We’ve only ever done email, except--” Simon cuts himself off. Wait.

“Except?” Ethan prompts.

“Except... except for his first post on Creek Secrets,” Simon finishes slowly. “Oh my God, I could--”

Ethan must read his thoughts on his face because he says, “But it would be public.”

Simon scoffs. “So is everything else.”

“Fair enough,” says Ethan. “Well then, I guess you should go for it. Get the gay happily ever after you deserve.”

He smiles. “Thanks, Ethan.” Then he has a thought. “You’re not, like, jealous or anything?”

Ethan sniffs. “As _if_ there’s a single high school boy good enough for me,” he says, “no offense.”

“Fair enough,” Simon echoes. “And thank you, really.”

Ethan ducks into his car and gestures _call me_ with a wink. Simon nods, laughing. He’s already drafting the post in his head.

_Dear students of Creekwood High..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just have to write one more chapter (!!!!) so i'll probably post the next one on monday


	7. Creekwood High Part 2: The Drama Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cabaret opens Thursday night and closes Friday. It sucks in terms of pretty much everything, but it also means that Operation: Blue can be put into action as soon as possible.  
> But it’s Thursday, and curtains open in two hours. Operation: Blue needs to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so apparently i need to stop saying that i'll have chapters up on specific days, bc as soon as i do i find myself physically unable to edit and post the next chapter. sorry for the delay!!

Since Georgia public high schools are horrible at supporting any extracurriculars that aren’t football, _Cabaret_ opens Thursday night and closes Friday. It sucks in terms of pretty much everything, but it also means that Operation: Blue can be put into action as soon as possible.

But it’s Thursday, and curtains open in two hours. Operation: Blue needs to wait.

Hair and makeup goes quickly enough: Simon’s been doing this for long enough that he can handle everything but the eyeliner by himself. The other guys weren’t weird in the changing room, which Simon hadn’t realized he was worried about until he was changing into costume, so he’s still kind of riding that feeling. Not enough to attempt to put on his own eyeliner, though, he decides as he looks at the pencil in his kit sceptically.

“Need help with that?” asks Abby, reflection suddenly appearing in the mirror. She’s all ready, and unsurprisingly looks fantastic in her glitter and fishnets and feather boa.

“Please,” he says, offering her his makeup kit.

“Close your eyes. Oh my God, _lightly_ , don’t scrunch your face up like that.” Abby applies the eyeliner in two fell swoops, and Simon opens his eyes immediately-- ignoring Abby’s squawk of protest-- to look at himself in the mirror.

It’s weird. _Simon_ knows that the reflection looking back at him is Simon, but with his hair gelled in this stupid style and the makeup, he almost looks like a different person. More clownish, yes, but also more defined. More real.

He’s always told people that he loves theater because it’s a chance to goof around in front of people without worrying about embarrassment, but maybe it’s about this, too. Feeling more real when he pretends to be someone else. No, that’s a little too pretentious for what it is-- maybe using the excuse of acting allows him to be truer to himself than he let himself be in his everyday life for so many years.

Also, he thinks, considering his reflection, maybe he could rock the guyliner look, now that he’s not trying to hide anything.

“Hey, Simon?” a voice asks, and Simon turns to see Martin. Because of course it is.

“Fuck off, Martin,” Abby hisses. Martin flinches away. “If I _ever_ see you anywhere _near_ Simon-- or _me_ , for that matter, you creep--”

“Please,” Martin doesn’t have the right to sound as close to tears as he does, “I just want to talk to Simon, I need to--”

“You think you have the _right_ \--”

“ _Please_ , please, Simon, I have--”

“Fine,” Simon snaps, then turns to Abby. “Give us a minute?”

“You sure?” Simon nods, so she shoots Martin another death glare before Simon leads them over to an emptier part of backstage.

“What the fuck could you possibly have to say to me now?” Simon demands.

“I’m _sorry_ , man,” Martin insists. “I didn’t think people still _did shit_ like that, and after Homecoming people were just, all over me and I needed them to focus on something else, I didn’t think it would be a big deal--”

“I don’t _care_ that you didn’t think my coming out wouldn’t be a big deal, Martin!” he shouts, and Martin flinches again. “Coming out is supposed to be _my_ thing! _I’m_ supposed to be the one that decides when and how and who knows, and how I get to say it, that’s supposed to be _my_ thing! You took that from me!” Simon takes a breath to level the volume of his voice. “So just stay the _fuck_ away from me.”

Simon doesn’t look to see what Martin’s face is doing-- he needs to get out, he needs to breathe. Abby starts to walk towards him but he shakes his head and she lets him continue to storm out the tech shop doors. The cooler air hits him suddenly, and he leans back heavily against the wall and focuses on controlling his heart rate.

He pulls out his phone to check his Blue email out of reflex, but his inbox is just as empty as it has been for the past few days. Also, he notices, his hands are trembling. Simon closes his eyes.

Simon hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed to say what he’d said to Martin until the words were out of his mouth. Yes, obviously the harassment was horrible, but on top of that the sheer breach of privacy was... Simon doesn’t have any words for how shitty it was. Still is. Probably will continue to be for a while, if he’s honest.

Yet, he thinks to himself wryly, the show must go on.

Backstage feels even hotter and stuffier now that Simon’s had a breath of fresh air, but he makes a beeline towards Abby who’s already waiting with open arms, so it isn’t too overwhelming. “Do I need to kill him now, or can it wait until the cast party?” she asks, which makes Simon snort.

“Don’t kill him in costume, Albright would lose her shit,” he says. “Plus he doesn’t have an understudy.”

Abby tightens her arms around him. “What if I maim him, just a little? I won’t get blood on either of our costumes, I promise.”

Simon doesn’t know how to say _as much as I want you to kick Martin’s ass for both of our sakes, you being here for me is more than enough, I can never thank you enough for what you’re doing_ without crying and ruining the eyeliner Abby did for him, so he just squeezes her back. He hopes she gets the message.

 

Theater kids, Simon thinks to himself, are fucking insane.

He kind of feels like an anthropologist witnessing the true nature of humanity in microcosm, or something, as he watches the rest of the cast and crew scramble to be ready for opening night. There’s something kind of feral about a mass of half-dressed teens running around a cramped hallway. Between the kids stuffing themselves with pizza due to stress, others looking like they’re about to puke at the smell of food, the screaming, the frantic last-minute run-throughs of choreo, the hairspray, the baby powder, the scattered German phrases, and the rendition of _Take A Chance On Me_ in a Kermit the Frog voice that’s coming from... somewhere, Simon’s most likely seeing the full range of human emotion play out in front of him.

“People are animals,” he remarks as Abby approaches from behind.

“Whoever wrote _Lord of the Flies_ knew what the fuck was up,” someone who is definitely not Abby replies.

Simon turns to face Cal as he surveys the carnage before them with an amused smirk. He’s in a black button-down and slacks, and his hair is kind of slicked up off of his forehead, which makes his eyes look very bright, and Simon should stop staring.

“Yeah,” he says and clears his throat. He focuses on the circle of girls who he thinks are performing a seance. “Shouldn’t you be in the pit?”

“Not until the house opens,” Cal says with a casual shrug.

Simon nods. “Cool,” he offers. The girls all suddenly throw their heads back in sync. Maybe it’s an exorcism? He and Cal stand next to each other a moment, observing.

Cal looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “So, I saw your post on Creek Secrets--”

“Are you Blue?” he hears himself blurt.

Cal shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry.”

“Right, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked--”

“Simon, it’s okay,” he says. “I’m actually kind of honored. I just wanted to wish you luck, I guess. With the show and with Blue.”

Simon smiles a little. “Aren’t you supposed to say _break a leg_?”

Cal wrinkles his nose. “What do I look like, some kind of theater kid?”

They both laugh. Cal’s still cute, Simon decides, especially when he laughs. But without the he-could-be-Blue aura, that doesn’t seem quite as noticeable or important.

Fuck. Simon really is gone on Blue, whoever he is.

“House opens in five minutes!” yells Ms. Albright. “That means shut up _now_!”

A sudden hush falls over the cast, followed by scattered giggles.

“That’s my cue,” Cal whispers as he puts a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Break a leg, Simon.”

“Thanks, you too.” He smiles as Cal turns away.

“Oh my _god_ ,” says Abby excitedly. “Was that--? Did he--?”

Simon shakes his head, still smiling. “He’s not.”

“Oh.” Abby looks disappointed, but Simon just throws an arm around her.

“It’s fine, really. We should get into places.”

“You’re right.” Abby reaches on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then immediately rubs the spot with her thumb to clean off the lipstick. “Break a leg, Spier.”

“You too, Suso,” he tightens his arm around her. “Knock ‘em dead.”

“I _know_ that y’all aren’t all still back here instead of getting into places!” Booms Ms. Albright’s voice again, and Abby and Simon grin to each other as they join the herd of kids rushing into the wings.

Simon can hear the orchestra warming up and the low murmur of the audience on the other side of the curtain, and his heart starts beating harder, but in a good way. A way that makes him feel excited instead of trapped in his own skin. He’s grinning like an idiot.

Abby’s hand finds his and they both squeeze, then turn to grin at each other. He can’t wait to watch her kick ass.

The other side of the curtain falls silent as Taylor reads the announcements, then the curtain’s opening and the orchestra is beginning to play and Martin’s walking out to take his place and the lights are coming up, and the show is about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope it's clear that this is kind of a love note to high school theater.... to the surprise of no one, probably, i was in drama in high school and my senior musical holds such a messy, special place in my heart and i can admit that this chapter was mostly just an opportunity for me to write smth self-indulgent to commemorate that. hopefully it was worth the wait!!
> 
> also: 1000 hits!! oh my god!! thank u all sm for reading!!!! 
> 
> i'm NOT saying when i'll have the next and final chapter up bc if i do i'll curse myself, but expect it very very soon!!!! it's looking like a very, very long one, so hopefully that will make up for my terrible update schedule


	8. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday dawns a little bit brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all when they say college hits u hard and fast they're not lying
> 
> but i'm back!! enjoy :)

Friday dawns a little bit brighter. School is actually pretty cool-- apparently people liked his bold move on Creek Secrets yesterday, because random kids wish him luck and even offer him high fives. Simon kind of feels like he’s in a cheesy teen movie montage. He lets himself unironically enjoy it.

“Someone’s popular today,” Abby remarks as they walk into homeroom.

“People love a romcom moment,” says Nick with a shrug. “You’re like every John Hughes movie ever, but better because there’s no racism or misogyny.”

“Thanks? I think?” Simon nods back at a girl waving and shooting thumbs-up at him across the room. “Also, shouldn’t you be in your own homeroom?”

Nick slings an arm around Abby. “Boyfriend privilege,” he says, and Abby rolls her eyes fondly.

“Gross,” Simon says offhandedly. “But there’s less than a minute until the bell, and isn’t your homeroom downstairs and on the other side of the building?”

“Shit!” Nick dashes away, dashes back to kiss Abby’s cheek, then dashes out of the classroom.

“He’s not gonna make it, is he?” Abby asks as the final bell rings. She and Simon look at each other, their faces saying _this stupid boy_.

Simon loves his friends.

 

“Hey,” says Bram, setting his lunch tray down. “Is it cool if I sit here?”

Simon looks up, confused. “It’s your spot, isn’t it?”

“Well,” Bram rubs the back of his hair like he’s nervous. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to, you know, stick with your close friends right now. I’d get it,” he adds quietly.

“Oh. No, you’re fine,” Simon scoots over to emphasize his point. “I mean, I appreciate it but I kinda just want things to go back to normal.”

“Really?” Bram asks, taking the seat next to him. He doesn’t quite make eye contact with Simon. “You think it’ll be better if everything just... goes back to the way it was?”

Simon’s first instinct says _yes,_  but then Bram looks him in the eye and Simon feels like he needs to really think about his answer. “Well,” he starts, “I guess there’s no way for things to _really_ go back to the way they were, is there? I might not have changed, but everyone’s like, idea of me has. And it’s not like I _liked_ hiding a part of myself from my friends. So maybe I just want things to... settle down into a new normal? See how much of my old life is willing to come along with me.” Simon shakes his head-- why is he telling Bram all this? His Blue withdrawal must be making him prone to monologuing. “Sorry, that might have been a little TMI.”

Bram’s face is impossible to read. “No, I-- I appreciate you telling me that,” he says, “and I’m glad that I have a place in your new life.” He says the last part like it’s a question.

God, Simon wishes Bram wasn’t straight.

“Of course, man,” he says breezily. “We might not be, like, super close, we’re still pretty good friends, right? I mean, especially--” _especially after Halloween_ , he’d been about to say, but then he remembers how Halloween ended. “-- after a year of eating lunch together,” he covers himself lamely.

“And for what it’s worth, I think you’re really strong.”

Simon wishes he could hide his blush at that comment but _come on_ , Cute Bram Greenfeld expressing concern for him _and_ complimenting him in the span of five minutes? His poor gay heart can’t take this sort of treatment. “Yeah, well,” he clears his throat. “We’ll see how strong I am once I get to the Ferris wheel.”

Bram’s brows furrow in confusion and he opens his mouth like he’s about to reply but Leah slides into place next to him with a concerned “You ready for tonight?”

“Of course he is,” says Nick as he slides in on his other side, Abby just a step behind.

Simon nods, if only for himself. Of course he is.

 

Even though the school day seems to drag on for an eternity, Simon wouldn’t be able to say what actually happened during class if his life depended on it. The emotional cocktail of it being a Friday, closing night, and The Night of Operation: Blue AKA The Fair AKA The Moment Simon Might Get His Heart Broken Into A Million Pieces In Front Of Everyone, et cetera--

“You’re worrying too loudly,” Leah scolds quietly with a thump to his forehead during calculus. “If you’re not gonna be any help with these problems, at least let me work on them in peace and quiet.”

So he might have bounced his leg through the day in a state of anxious detachment, but hey, it’s almost the end of seventh period so clearly it can’t be _that_ bad of a coping mechanism.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” he says, because he suddenly can’t be sitting still anymore. Leah looks up and her face asks if he wants her to go with him, but he shakes his head with as much of a smile as he can muster. Second-semester senior privilege lets him just walk out of class, and he decides a lap around the school will help him chill out a little.

Empty school buildings aren’t exactly the ideal place to relieve tension, Simon decides as he turns a corner. There’s too much cinderblock and garish “art” and not enough windows. He doesn’t consider himself a particularly outdoorsy person, but even he would rather be out in like, the woods or something than stuck in here. But at this point he’ll take what he can get.

There’s a heater by the cafeteria, and as Simon approaches he can see someone with a familiar puff of hair and soccer jersey sitting on it. He looks like he’s spacing out.

“Shouldn’t you be in class right now, Mr. Eisner?” he calls out, pitching his voice low for comedic effect. Nick flinches so hard he almost falls off of the heater before he realizes who spoke, then flips Simon off.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he complains as Simon hops up next to him. Simon just smiles smugly.

The two boys just sit next to each other awhile, lost in their own thoughts. It’s not until Nick puts a hand on Simon’s knee that he realizes the repetitive banging he’s been dimly aware of came from him compulsively kicking the heater.

“Sorry,” says Simon, forcing his leg to be still.

Nick shrugs. “I get it.”

“It’s just--”

“Nah, dude, I get it,” Nick interrupts. “It’s chill. You don’t have to explain anything.”

Simon presses his lips together and nods. “Wanna walk around with me?”

Nick smiles and hops off of the heater.

 

Simon has so many thoughts in his head he feels like he can’t breathe. The show-- his senior musical, the _closing night_ of his senior musical, which he should be soaking in so he can remember it-- happens around him. He tries to let go of the anxiety, to throw himself into each dance number, but his head feels like it’s floating a foot above his body. Simon can’t stop thinking about The Fair, but his brain also can’t come up with any new, horrible ways the night can possibly go. He can’t do anything but wait for it to happen.

Suddenly he’s taking his final final bow at Creekwood High School, and he can’t muster up any feelings to feel about it. Which in turn makes him feel guilty. Which adds to the churning in his gut.

Feelings are a horrible cycle, he decides. Simon never wants to feel them ever again. He’s sure his therapist mom would be proud.

His friends find him staring at his reflection in the mirror, makeup removed, civilian clothes back on.

“Hey, Simon,” Abby greets quietly. “You ready to go to the fair?”

He looks at his friends’ reflections for a moment. Abby, bubbling from leftover adrenaline and excitement for what comes next. Nick, shoulders relaxed, smiling in easy, thoughtless support. Leah, fierce in her determination that this will work out for Simon.

Simon nods, offering a small smile of his own, then turns to stand in front of them. Before his feet even touch the ground, however, he’s engulfed in a three-way hug.

Has he mentioned recently that he loves his friends?

The rush to get out of the dressing room is crowded and frenzied, but eventually the four of them fight their way to freedom. Simon shivers, appreciating the rush of cool night air. Just as he stops to look around for his car, someone bumps into him.

“Shit, sor-- Simon!” says Bram, eyes wide as he realizes who he ran into.

Simon gives him a small smile in greeting. “Hey, you came to the show?”

Bram nods, then looks away quickly. “Of course, I mean, you and Abby-- you guys were both amazing!” he leans over towards Abby as he says the last part, and Abby grins in response.

“Thanks,” she says. “We’d love to stay and chat, but Simon has a date he really can’t miss.”

“Don’t call it that!” Simon protests, and Bram’s eyes get wide again.

“Right, the Ferris wheel,” he says quietly. “Um, good luck with that, Simon,” he meets Simon’s eyes again, but Simon still can’t read him. “I hope you get everything you want tonight.”

Before Simon can respond, Bram turns on his heel and disappears into the masses.

Simon shakes his head and goes back to trying to find his car.

 

Simon pulls into a parking space at the fairgrounds, and says, “What if he doesn’t show up?”

It’s the first thing he’s said since the four of them had piled into his car, but his friends don’t hesitate to reassure him.

“He will,” Abby insists.

“Even if he doesn’t, we’ll be right there for you,” says Leah.

“How will you know if you don’t get out there?” asks Nick.

Simon closes his eyes. “I know, I know. It’s just-- this is the first time I’ve ever been in love.” He takes a shaky breath. “I really don’t want to get my heart broken right now.”

There’s nothing anyone can say to that. “If you really don’t want to--” Leah starts.

“No,” Simon interrupts. “I want to. I have to.” He unbuckles himself. “We both deserve this chance, right?”

Leah smiles. “Of course.”

Simon nods, and gets out of the car.

 

Why did Simon decide to declare his undying gay love on the busiest night of the fair?

He knows that it’s tradition for the drama club to go to the fair before heading to Taylor’s for the cast party. He knows that Friday nights are popular to begin with. Yet this is the day on which his stupid sappy brain decided to make his grand statement.

He really, really hopes the crowds don’t scare Blue away.

Of course, once he gets to the Ferris wheel, he sees a crowd’s already formed-- mostly girls, bouncing on their toes.

“Good luck, Simon!” one of them calls, which starts an avalanche of straight girls shouting aggressively “supportive” sentiments at him. Some, he realizes, have their phones out, probably to take pictures or video. Simon forces a smile. _Maybe they’ll leave if Blue doesn’t show up in the first ten minutes_.

“Oh, I don’t fucking think so,” Leah says as Simon makes his way over to the ticket-taker. “Hey, heterosexuals!” she shouts. “Go away! This is a fair, not a goddamn zoo!”

“Don’t be a bitch, we’re just being supportive!” someone yells back.

“No, you’re being creepy!” Abby chimes in. “This isn’t for you!”

Simon, trusting his friends to handle it, settles into the seat of the Ferris wheel. Thankfully, and with a lot of indignant muttering, the crowd begins to disperse. A few die-hards hold their position, but Simon really couldn’t give less of a shit at this point. His attention is fully focused on waiting for Blue.

It’s a pretty long wait.

He really, truly appreciates his friends-- and Ethan, who showed up after Simon’s fifth go-around-- for cheering him on every time he reaches the bottom again, but their encouragement doesn’t stop his stomach from dropping a little more every time the wheel takes him back up alone. By the time the ticket-taker gestures that he has two more rides left, Simon’s standing on the edge of the pit of despair.

And like that his last two rides go by, and he’s about to get off when a figure comes running toward him.

“Wait, wait!” it calls, and it’s Martin Fucking Addison, because how could it not be? “Simon, it’s me,” he says, out of breath. What’s left of the crowd gasps, and he thinks he hears Abby whisper _fuck you_. “I love you. I’m Blue.” He throws his arms out in what he probably thinks is a grand gesture, but it just makes him look like a dick. Maybe Simon’s a little biased.

Either way, he’s sick of this shit. “No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” Martin agrees, smiling nervously. “But man, this is _brutal_.”

 _Thanks, Martin, I hadn’t fucking realized._ “Yeah.”

“Well, anyway,” Martin says, fumbling some money out of his pocket. “This last ride’s on me.”

Simon really doesn’t want Martin’s charity, but he’s worried that if he resists Martin will turn it into a scene. Still, he can only muster a quick nod of thanks, and finally, Martin leaves.

He settles in for another lonely ride when he notices, out of the corner of his eye, another figure approaching. “Can I sit there?”

Simon looks up to see Bram Greenfeld standing in front of him, pointing to the empty space next to him.

“Uh,” Simon says, shocked stupid. “I was kinda waiting for someone.”

Bram lets out a short laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

Oh. _Oh_. Oh, holy shit.

“It’s you,” Simon says.

Bram smiles. “It’s me.”

So Simon scoots over, and Cute Bram Greenfeld sits next to him on a Ferris wheel. He looks over at him in wonder. “But, the party--”

Bram cuts him off with another short laugh. “Yeah. I was drunk, and confused,” he admits. “And it ended, like, right after you left.”

Confused? _Did I make him confused? Is that good or bad? Oh my God, it’s Bram. Blue is Bram_.

The Ferris wheel carries them up.

After a moment, Blue-- Bram-- turns to Simon. “Are you disappointed it’s me?”

Simon can’t answer for a moment, because _what?_ “No,” he says, noticing again for the first time since Halloween just how brown Bram’s eyes are. Simon realizes he’s smiling, and something inside him says _now_.

So he leans over and kisses Bram.

He’s not sure if it’s the fireworks going off behind him, or their audience cheering, or his heart in his ears, or the kiss itself, but something in Simon explodes. They part for a moment, just to look at each other.

And really, what else can Simon do but kiss him again?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this is late. and has one more chapter left. even though i said this chapter was gonna be the last one. whoops?
> 
> thank u so much to everyone who's stuck around through my long hiatus, i appreciate every single one of u more than words can say!! i don't know when i'll manage to get the real last chapter out, but i hope this extra long update makes up for some of the wait!!


	9. Bram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He got his happily ever after, and it's happier than he ever could have expected. But Simon, being Simon, still faces a dilemma.  
> How do you follow up the most perfect first kiss in history?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear to all that is good and holy: this is it, y'all!! we're finally here!!!!  
> enjoy!!!!

It’s been ten minutes since they got off the Ferris wheel and Simon can’t stop smiling.

The two of them had been swarmed by Simon’s friends, Ethan, and even Garrett as soon as they’d stepped off the ride, hand in hand, and Simon was grinning because he got his happily ever after and a kiss (or three) to boot. Then everyone started teasing them “lightheartedly”, and Simon was laughing in embarrassment. Then Bram hid his face in Simon’s shoulder and Simon was smiling because his heart felt like it was melting into his stomach.

And now they’re walking around the fair, holding hands like every other couple, and that thought alone means Simon couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried.

But Bram’s smiling, too, so why should Simon stop?

“I’d ask you to win me something, but I don’t want you to waste your money,” says Bram as they pass a gaming booth, canopy heavy with stuffed prizes. “I don’t think your drama-kid reflexes could handle the pressure.”

Simon puts his unoccupied hand on his heart. “Ouch, words hurt.”

“Even if they’re true?” Bram teases.

“ _Especially_ if they’re true, you dick,” Simon laughs. “Remind me why I like you, again?”

Bram just looks at him, warm and happy. It’s unfair. It makes Simon want to kiss him again.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbles instead, and Bram squeezes his hand.

Simon was worried that it would be awkward, now that there’s no computer screens to hide behind, but Blue is here, and he’s Bram, and he’s _real_. They’re not worried about making painful small talk-- it’s kind of hard to be, after you’ve shared your deepest secrets with someone-- so they’ve just been trading small quips and comments as they occur to them. Bram does this thing where he nudges Simon with his elbow and smiles while looking at him from the corner of his eye and it’s _so_ familiar and comfortable. There’s no room for awkwardness.

But Simon, being Simon, still faces a dilemma.

How do you follow up the most perfect first kiss in history?

Simon, as has been established, wants to kiss Bram again. Has wanted to kiss him again since they stopped, really. But he’s in uncharted waters now that his grand gesture is officially over. How should he start? Should he just lean in? What if the moment isn’t right? What if they bump noses or clack teeth or-- horror of all imaginable horrors-- he accidentally bites Bram?

Something about his train of thought must show on his face, because Bram stops and looks at him, brows drawn in concern, and it’s _so unfair_ that he looks so good as he does it. “Simon?”

They just look at each other a moment, and Simon watches the fair lights drift lazily across Bram’s face like he’s in an indie teen movie. There’s music coming from one of the booths, and they’re in an emptier part of the fair, and oh, this might be Simon’s shot.

He gives Bram a small smile, tightens his grip on Bram’s hand, and takes a step--

“There you are!”

They both flinch away from each other at the sudden boom of Nick’s voice, and Simon’s friends seem to appear out of thin air. Nick is holding Abby’s hand, who’s... holding Leah’s hand? That’s a new development. He raises an eyebrow at her, but before he can ask, Abby accosts him.

“Hey, Si, not that we’re not loving this entire concept-- which, trust me, we _so_ are, y’all are adorable--”

“But the thing is, Simon’s our ride,” Leah cuts in, having the decency to at least look a little guilty. “And the cast party started half an hour ago.”

“Oh, right,” Simon says, turning to Bram. “Do you--?”

“I could use a ride,” he says like it’s a question. “If you don’t mind.”

Simon smiles, again.

Without much talking, Bram gets in the passenger seat while Abby, Leah, and Nick pile in the back, Abby squished in the middle. The three of them are still holding hands. Simon would tease-- or at least pry a little-- but Bram riding shotgun is no less distracting than Bram next to him at the fair, lamplight making him glow, and it takes all of Simon’s concentration to drive the five minutes to Taylor’s house without crashing or leaning over and kissing Bram.

But finally Simon pulls up to the house, party obviously in full swing if the music and yelling from the backyard is any indication. He puts the car in park and says, casually as possible, “You know, I’m not really feeling the cast party. You guys have fun, I think I’m just gonna--”

“Okay, okay, I know a sexile when I hear one,” Nick says, getting out of the car. “But you’re paying for our Uber back!”

Simon rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He looks at Leah through the rearview. “I can drop you off--”

“Actually,” she interrupts. “I think I’m going to the cast party.”

Simon’s eyebrows shoot un in a way that means _we are so talking about this tomorrow, Burke_ , and she rolls her eyes and huffs in a way that says _yeah, I know, fuck you very much_. Then she leans forward and kisses his cheek, whispering “Don’t be silly, wrap your willy!” in his ear before following Abby and Nick into the party.

Simon lets himself stew in embarrassment for a moment as Bram laughs at him, but then they’re just sitting in the car together. Looking at each other. Alone.

“You know,” Bram says casually. “I told my mom I was sleeping over at Garrett’s.”

Simon grins. “My parents think I’m gonna be at the cast party all night.”

Bram grins back. “Then the night is still young.”

 

They end up at Waffle House, because young though the night may be, most other establishments closed an hour ago. Not that Simon minds, obviously. He’s getting waffles at 11:30 at night with a cute boy who is (probably) his boyfriend. They’re holding hands across the table, and Bram’s knees are pressed up against his, and their ankles are tangled together. In short, they scream _we’re on a date and we’re so happy about it_. Hello, this is the fulfillment of basically every single one of his gay-as-fuck, self-indulgent daydreams.

He still really, really wants to kiss Bram again.

He still has absolutely no idea how to do it.

And it’s not that he’s _not_ enjoying the date-- as he just established, this is shaping up to be the best night of his life-- but. Bram’s sitting across from him, and he’s beautiful, and Simon remembers how his lips felt pressed against his own, and he wants to do it again so fucking badly.

But there’s a table between them. And he doesn’t want to come off as pushy. And they are in public, what if-- What if?

“Earth to Simon,” Bram waves a hand in front of his face and Simon blinks.

He huffs. “Sorry, I was totally spaced out.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bram offers, eyebrow quirked.

“Nah, it’s dumb,” Simon says, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Bram bites his lip like he’s deciding something. “Si, can I say something?”

Simon nods, confused (and ignoring the butterflies in his stomach at Bram calling him _Si_ , but that’s irrelevant).

“Look, even though everything turned out fine in the end, we were in kind of mess at one point,” Bram says cautiously, lacing their fingers together. “And that was because we weren’t communicating. We weren’t being honest.” He smiles gently. “Let’s never do that again, okay?”

Simon lets out a breath. “Okay, fine, but it’s stupid.” He looks around them for a second, then shifts forward in his seat. “I want to kiss you.”

Bram’s smile widens. “Then kiss me.” He makes it sound so _simple_.

Maybe it is.

Simon lean forward, and  kisses Bram again. The table between them digs into his stomach, and everything is sticky, and Simon doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and they both end up just smiling against each other instead of actually kissing, and they knock teeth a little bit. In short, it’s nowhere near as perfect as their first kiss, except for all the ways that it is.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Bram teases as they pull back. Simon rolls his eyes and steals Bram’s drink.

They pay and leave soon after that, because even Waffle House can’t stay open forever. And once they step outside, Bram kisses Simon sweetly, and that’s perfect, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit y'all. we made it. these boys took over the last half of my summer, and followed me to college, and now i'm done with the longest project i've ever worked on. wack!
> 
> i just want to thank everyone who stuck around to the end, i honestly love every single one of you. i hope this ending is just as satisfying for y'all as it is for me.
> 
> one last shout-out to steph and em, i really honestly truly could not have done this without your support. love u both to the moon and back!!!!
> 
> also one last plug: my tumblr is @sapphea, feel free to talk to me there!!


End file.
